


A Million Little Pieces of My Intestinal Tract

by yelling



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:23:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yelling/pseuds/yelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ew, first fic, ew I'm so sorry</p></blockquote>





	A Million Little Pieces of My Intestinal Tract

Will took the glass of wine in his hands, unsure of whether it was a good idea to drink it or not. It’s not like he hadn’t had a glass or two in his office for sure, but by now he was pretty sure that this was Hannibal’s way of getting him comfortable, to make it easier to peel back the layers of “emotional wreckage”. Then again, he needed it. Two more murders from the Chesapeake Ripper that week, and stepping in the rippers shoes felt so easy now, like slipping into an old pair of loafers, he was sure it wasn’t good for him.  
“So, Will,” Hannibal said as he poured himself a glass, “You seem to be getting closer to catching the ripper.”  
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he took a sip of his wine, letting the burgundy liquid wash over his tongue.  
“And I suppose Jack has been stretching you abilities,” Hannibal said, leaning back into the green leather of his chair.  
“To snapping point,” he took another sip, much longer this time. The wine was wonderful, full-bodied, and sweet, almost sickeningly so. “This is great wine, what kind is it?”  
“Don’t change the subject Will,” Hannibal said coldly.  
“Sorry, thought I’d ask.”  
“Well, let’s get back to the situation,” Hannibal continued on, but everything he said sounded so muffled to Will, who was starting to feel lightheaded. Extremely lightheaded. The room started to tilt ever so slightly, the red paint and mahogany bookcases blurring together as it moved.  
“Will?” Hannibal’s voice cut through the haze, snapping Will back together, “Was the wine too much, you look a bit distracted.”  
“No, I’m,” Will paused, he was slurring. He was only a fourth into his glass.  
“My apologies, this was a bad idea,” he set down his glass and walked over. He leaned over Will and took the glass, letting his fingers graze over Will’s, who was nearly to busy worrying to notice. Worrying about how loud his heart was pounding in his ears, scared Hannibal could hear it in that quiet, dark room. “You’re nervous.”  
Will felt his throat catch.  
A sly, smug smile slid over Hannibal’s face as he leaned in a bit closer. “A bit too tipsy?” Will could smell the scent of expensive French cologne in the diminishing space between them.  
“I think I should go,” Will arose, trying to dance around Hannibal, but fell over in the space between the two chairs, crashing into the carpet face first. He rolled over and attempted to get up, but instead flopped back to the carpet.  
“I think you’re going to stay,” mused Hannibal, who kneeled down, hovering over Will. “I think you’re going to lay here and let me do as I do,” he straddled Will, sitting ever so gingerly on his chest, and stroked the carpet burn that stung Will’s forehead, brushing away the curls that obscured his view of Will‘s wound. “Doctors know what’s best for their patients.” He kissed the spot gingerly, letting his lips drag over the wound, and Will couldn’t help but let out a soft combination of a gasp and a moan. He could feel a lazy smile stretch over Lecter’s face. He kissed Will again, this time letting their lips meet in a sweet, gentle gesture that deepened quickly when Will kissed back. Will could barely feel the thumb that stroked his unshaven cheek, melting into the carpet of the elegant office, but a sharp pain brought him hurdling back down the moment Hannibal bit Will’s lip.  
Blood welled in his mouth, soaking his tongue with copper and pain. Hannibal sucked at the wound, and as quickly as the kiss had started, he pulled away from Will, looking in satisfaction at the smears of blood that painted Will’s jaw. He made quick work of Will’s shirt, unbuttoning it to reveal the soft, pale flesh that lay underneath. With one hand splayed across Will’s chest, Hannibal pulled his scalpel from his pocket, playing with it in his palm. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he murmured before slicing into Will’s abdomen, dragging the steel in a straight, slow motion while Will cried out.  
His screams were more in surprise than anything. He saw the blood pool to the surface and spill down his waist, waiting for some sort of pain, or shock, or anything. He took in shallow, panicked breaths, eyes darting between the blood and Hannibal’s calm, grinning face when Hannibal slipped his hand into Will’s abdominal cavity. Will’s loud and primal howls were not that of pain though, but of utter euphoria. His body shuddered at Dr. Lecter’s touch, his toes curling as his attacker grasped his stomach, plucking it out like a ripened fruit from a tree. “Oh Will,” Hannibal tutted as he wiped the smooth surface of the stomach, his stomach “Let’s hope you don’t lose your lunch,” he said as he gave a self-satisfied smirk.  
Will panted like his dogs on a hot summer day, head rushing with confliction as Hannibal took a handful of Will’s intestines, yanking at them more violently now, and with every movement Will twitched under Hannibal’s weight, questioning every moment of his pleasure. Hannibal sucked his blood-soaked fingers, grinning like a cat before he snapped his teeth into a length of intestine.  
Everything went black for Will.

Will Graham shot up out of sleep like a bullet, snapping his sweat-drenched body upwards from the mattress. He clawed at his sodden shirt, flinging it on the ground as he threw his arms protectively around his gut. It was as slick and wet as a pebble from a river, but he wasn’t bleeding, only shaking. He also felt an uncomfortable and familiar bulge beneath his cornflower boxers.  
He laid back down in defeat, covered himself with one drenched sheet, and prayed for the stag to come back to his dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Ew, first fic, ew I'm so sorry


End file.
